


Blow Me Away

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme BDSM, Gun play, M/M, Object Insertion, Power Play, Threatening, seriously don't try this at home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: And what a spectacular ending that would be.





	Blow Me Away

This had to be it, the ultimate high, the ultimate pleasure, Mitsuhide was sobbing and crying around the length of rope between his lips, wound around his head and his throat – an inch of movement in either direction was all he had. He was left at the mercy of his Lord, of Nobunaga-kou, his relief lay in the wait of Nobunaga’s slowly dissipating control. It was only a matter of time, of course, before his Lord eventually gave in again – but would he be able to _wait_ that long?

A hand trailed down the line of his spine, coming to rest at the small of his back before drawing away once more. No. No he could _not_ wait for that long.

That same hand under his chin. Do you crave this, Mitsuhide?

Yes yes yes _yes a thousand times I do please hurry my Lord._ Oh he was going to _die,_ and when he was finally pushed forward over the unyielding armrest of the throne it was nothing short of the greatest relief. Nobunaga had _left_ him there before, tied up like that and unable to move or speak – he certainly wouldn’t have put it past him to do it again. He braced himself and yet openly _anticipated_ the sharp pain of his Lord thrusting into him sans any sort of preparation – Mitsuhide enjoyed the sting that lingered for days afterwards and Nobunaga-kou hardly had the patience to go through with it – but it never came.

Instead, what he felt was the cold touch of metal at the very small of his back, _blunt,_ not sharp – not the end of his dagger or sword. This was something very, _very_ different – and round as well, he found, as it was positioned and slowly, _slowly_ pushed inside of him. He could hear a faint clicking noise as Nobunaga adjusted his grip on the thing, and it was _then –_

The gun. It was the goddamn gun, Nobunaga was inserting a _firearm_ into Mitsuhide’s greedy hole. His finger was _on_ the damn trigger, it was why he was being so slow and so careful, because he absolutely would not have done so otherwise. Just one small movement and Mitsuhide would _literally_ be blown to pieces from the inside out.

What a wonderful way, he thought, to die. 

He keened against the rope, sodden with his own drool, and tried hard to push further back only to be stopped by his Lord’s hand. _No,_ came the scolding, softer than usual, you'll not show your Lord disrespect, and Mitsuhide could think of nothing more symbolically appropriate. The scrape of Nobunaga’s armored claws against the sensitive flesh of his opening told him that the barrel – doubly wide, at that – was now _all_ the way inside of him, as much as was possible anyways. It was as if Mitsuhide could feel it in his gut and still, still he craved even more. Nobunaga placed a hand between his shoulder blades and forced him further forwards at the same time that he nudged yet _deeper_ still. 

Part of Mitsuhide _wished_ that his lord would indeed pull the trigger and hold his dying body in his arms afterwards, perhaps with pride of the grisly work that he’d made of his subordinate. What sweet pain it would be – an agony to put an end to all others. 

Nobunaga pulled back a little, letting Mitsuhide feel the cool metal barrel sliding out of him, before stopping and then pushing it back inside with a smoothness that made them both shudder. He knew he took it naturally, and felt a pinch of absurd pride. This was sick. _He_ was sick. And he was fully aware of it. Mitsuhide didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused, teetering precariously at death’s edge once again, yet as far away from the battlefield as he could be. 

“Look at you.” 

He couldn’t even muster up a reply – any words would have been muffled regardless.

“So eager, so _willing,_ even knowing what could happen.” A twist of the wrist, of the barrel, and Mitsuhide _shrieked._ Oh please, oh _please_ don’t stop. Take me apart take me apart rip me to shreds, he would embrace it all. 

“Remember this,” Oda said, thrusting the shotgun forwards and setting a brutal, most unforgiving pace, “Remember this, and remember your _place,_ Akechi.”

Nobunaga leaned forwards and wrapped an arm around Mitsuhide’s chest, and then watched as his very own vassal fell apart in his hands. He sharply withdrew the gun with a single movement of his wrist and then flung it to the side, knowing that it was the utmost cruelty to Mitsuhide to leave him empty and open and _wanting_ so, his appetites were so insatiable.

As he carefully untied the coarse ropes, he asked Mitsuhide once more who he belonged to, rediscovering each wound that he had inflicted with a sense of gut-wrenching pride. Mitsuhide’s answer, of course, came without hesitation.

“You, Nobunaga-kou. Only you.”


End file.
